Title in Progress
by MaxRide05
Summary: Two months after the war and she can still hear his voice in her head. Oh, and he was also the only one who called her Kat...


**Yeah, the title's not really in progress, not the fic's one anyway. I mean the title (or label) of the platonic Haymitch/Katniss (sometimes Peeta) sort of bond that's presented in this fic. Rated for one word – which is not an f-bomb. First HG fic so CC would be nice.  
**

**Title in Progress**

Katniss was in the odd half-awake half-asleep place that she absolutely hated when she heard it. Heard _him_.

"_Alright, sweet'eart. Wakey-wakey. I don't get to sleep when you come over; you don't get to sleep when I come over."_

She growled, the grogginess that weighed her body and mind like a dense fog subsiding slightly. But not quickly enough for her liking.

Honestly - the first night without Peeta by her side that she woke fully rested and it was to hear his voice. She mustered enough energy to open her eyes and hiss, "Haymitch, get the… _hell_ out of my house." It was… disturbing to say the least. Did he watch her while she slept..? Then perhaps that old saying 'what goes around comes around' was true. Oh the horror.

"_Don't know what you're talkin' about, Kat." _

She smouldered in anger at the name. He was the only one who called her that; she didn't even know where he'd gotten the idea. And then she properly registered what he'd said.

_What?_ Her brow furrowed. Then her eyes widened. _Oh no._

He was back in her head. Though she wasn't actually sure he'd ever left after her and Peeta's first Games to be honest. He had been the one to… convince her to try and help MuttPeeta back in 13 after all. Or rather his voice (that she suspected had been lying dormant in her head).

Katniss cursed and nearly fell out of her humongous bed.

Two months since she'd been back at 12, since the war had ended and he was _still_ – in – her – head!

At first, days after settling back into her house, when she had heard his clear, sarcastic voice in her head she had feared he'd actually made good on his threat to install that earpiece-chip whatever in her head and was just messing around from inside her kitchen.

Then she'd called out to him from her spot in the living room, told him to stop it and when did he put that thing in her head and not to think he was going to get away with it!

But his look of confusion when he'd finally dragged himself away from her fridge told her more than his surprisingly sober sounding question.

"You been on the happy juice again, Kat?"

Katniss shook her head to rid herself of the memory and stretched out her rather bony body. She became keenly aware of Peeta's absence after that and held back a sigh. He was still in the habit of going Mutt if in her presence for too long so he only stayed with her at nights in a sporadic sort of pattern. No staying over two nights in a row. Though more often than not he spent two nights away after being over for just one night.

She missed him. Though they weren't so estranged that she couldn't go over to his house to see him every once in a while. Like once every fortnight…

Like today for instance.

But first she had somewhere to be. And the visit was long overdue.

* * *

She pushed open the front door of Haymitch's house and made her way through the hall with her usual stealthy, hunter gait. It was as familiar as her dad's hunting jacket; she had slipped back into it with no problems after returning to 12.

No doubt the drunk'd be asleep – it was only eight according the clock in the hall, which she decided to trust just this once. She nudged open the ajar door of the living room with her foot.

She nodded once upon seeing the state of the living room. Yep that was Haymitch all right. Stone cold drunk, lying in his own mess.

As usual. How dependable he was.

Just the top of his dark curly locks were visible from his reclining position on the sofa.

Hazelle would have her work cut out for her when she came in later.

Katniss made her way to the kitchen.

"_Make yourself at home why don't you, Mockingjay?"_

She scowled upon hearing his voice, not from the living room but in her head.

"Oh I could say the same for you." She spat. "Having a nice time in there are we?" (Oh if her doctor could see her now...)

She could practically see his leery grin, even though he _was _just a… voice in her head. _"The best. You've been _great_."_

She scowled, grumbling as she stomped her way through the kitchen (she'd curse herself for that later) forgetting all her hunter stealth, words spewing for her mouth that would have made Hazelle, if not her own mother, wash her mouth out with soap. And 12's soap was quite pungent, even after the District's rebuilding.

Where on Panem did that man keep his glasses? He must've hidden them; they couldn't all be gone or in the living room. His dirty, cluttered sink was devoid of any, though they could've been buried underneath the plates and soggy, plastic containers. She certainly wasn't going to look.

She supposed the bucket which usually held his sick (it was its only purpose really) was either in the back – she hesitated in calling it a garden – which was inaccessible due to the locked kitchen door, or it was… in the living room.

Katniss grit her teeth and gingerly picked up a shallow bowl, which she suspected had once been white, with her forefinger and thumb. Holding it even more precariously she filled it with water from the tap and made her way to the living room.

Once there she grinned at the sight of the bundle of crap on Haymitch's sofa, under which lay Haymitch himself. He'd covered his head too, she thought before slowly tilting the bowl of cold water towards the bundle.

She heard a sound like someone tutting. "Ah, now that's just a waste of water see."

Katniss yelped, and spun to face a grinning Haymitch leaning against the wall by the living room door. She fumbled with the bowl before it slipped from her hands, splashing her front with cold water. Her hands instinctively reached for weapons that weren't there, and she scowled as her fingers closed around air.

Grimacing, Katniss turned and wiped her slick, greasy hands on a patch of crumpled fabric draped over the back of the sofa.

"Haymitch, what the hell?" She growled as she turned to face him again.

"Ah-ah-_ah-h-h_, you don't get to ask the questions here, sweetheart." She scowled at the endearment as it passed his lips, devoid of its usual odd mix of sarcasm and affection. Lately the tone had slipped more towards the latter.

He straightened and walked to her, his gait not like that of a drunken, or even hungover, man.

"Are you drunk?"

He shook his head, an arm's length away now, and his hands behind his back. "What're you doing here?"

"I…" It seemed silly now. What could she say to him? _Sorry I disturbed your _beauty sleep_ but, in all fairness, you woke me up first. What do you mean you never? Oh, then perhaps I imagined your voice in my head at seven this morning. My mistake!_

"What, can't come visit my old mentor? You come visit me."

"Right… How _touching_." Then he moved his hand from behind his back and she could see the thing he clutched in it. He brandished it like it was a weapon and she flinched. _That _was definitely not an improvement on his usual knife.

"What is that?" She recognised it, what she really meant was _what is _that_ doing here, _now_?_

He smirked as he aimed for her nose. Funny – it hadn't looked so dangerous lying there in her prep team's many cases. Or had it…?

"W-what the hell are you doing?"

"Your prep team left it here. In 12." By the look in his eyes, which she could barely discern in the dim, orange light, she wondered if that was actually true. Haymitch steadied his hand. "Now I'll ask you again, Kat, why're you here so early? Surely couldn't have been just for a chat…"

She scoffed. "What're you gonna do if I don't answer, use that thing on me?" She felt her lip curl. He merely raised his eyebrows. "Didn't steal any instructions with that thing, did you?" Her prep team had never used that… particular instrument of Capitol inflicted torture on her so she wasn't sure how it would affect her. But Haymitch didn't know that. "You can't," she averted her eyes from his Seam grey ones and stretched her cracked, dry lips back in a wince. She coughed lightly into her loose fist, "I'm sick," Katniss said by way of explanation.

After staring at her for what felt like an age Haymitch let out a bark of laughter. When he finally managed to calm down enough to speak coherently he said, "Sweetheart, that was pathetic."

His voice in her head readily agreed, and Katniss shuddered.

_That _was just too creepy even for her.

Haymitch pouted; it was definitely a weird expression on his gaunt face. "Well, if you're not gonna answer." He fiddled with the spray gun and she heard the thing_ click! _She leaned away from him slightly as he aimed for her chest. A smirk curved his lips, Seam grey eyes actually twinkling as they held her gaze.

"Haymitch… no. _No!_"

* * *

Peeta was just starting to put the finishing touches to his freshly baked muffins when Katniss strode into his kitchen cursing.

Peeta glanced over his shoulder briefly then did a double take. The full piping bag that had been clutched in his hands tenderly fell from his slack grasp.

"Alright, what did you do?" He turned to fully face the other victor, dusting his hands off on his apron.

"Me? Peeta…" Katniss gestured to herself. Her hair could have housed rats, or even – Peeta couldn't resist smirking – mockingjays. She was absolutely covered with splotches of drying, hardening body paint. The worst part (for her anyway): the colours shifted in the light streaming from the open window but they seemed to favour the colour hot pink. It sparkled too. "_Look_ at what that _bastard_ did to me!"

Peeta spoke before his brain could catch up with him. "Who, Gale? Yeah, he can be a bit…"

"No, not him. He's still in District 4." Her expression backed the unspoken, _duh_.

"Oh so Haymitch." Only other option.

Katniss hissed. "Yes."

Peeta smiled, ducking his head and turning back to the muffins when Katniss' narrow gaze flashed to his face. "So what did you do exactly?"

He picked up the piping bag to place the finishing touches on the muffins on the countertop in front of him. The crushed sugar cubes he'd sprinkled onto the glazed surfaces were really a nice touch. He was glad he'd remembered Katniss telling him about Finnick's apparent obsession with them. After all he couldn't have put a creased sliver of rope that had been knotted and untied many times onto the muffins.

"Nothing unusual. You know I was just gonna wake him up with the usual cold water dump and he duped me." Then she threw out, "But if you think I look a mess you should see the state of him."

"No, thanks. Actually quite busy." He raised the piping bag for a second so she could see before he finished with his icing. Peeta grabbed one of the premade cake pieces that he had shaped like fins and placed it in the centre of a muffin. He did so with all the remaining muffins and surveyed his work with a hawk's eye. Peeta splayed his hands flat on the counter and took a deep breath in through his nose before leaning back slightly, the ghost of a smile quirking his lips. He hoped Annie and her baby liked them (if unborn children could taste food from the womb that is).

"Oh… sorry." Apologising didn't come easy to Katniss so he appreciated the effort it took for her to get the word out. Really he did. "I'll go then. Need to get this stuff off me anyway." _Good_, part of him celebrated. He tried to fight it. That wasn't fair. Katniss wasn't the villain. Yet still his lip curled in a sneer.

"Sure." Peeta called back to the sound of Katniss' retreating footsteps, relaxing his clenched jaw. "And tell Haymitch when you see him I said he's a great shot." He just couldn't resist that last part.

"Bread-boy, _please_." The way she drew out the word made it sound like this: pah-leez. That was weird. And it sounded quite ridiculous. Just what to expect from an uneducated Mutt. "He's worse than you. And do you think I'm actually going to let him live after this?"

Peeta rolled his eyes as Katniss' voice faded. As if she could actually kill Haymitch.

Then he straightened. That was actually a fight he wouldn't mind seeing…

"Hey, M– Katniss, don't start without me!"

**Yeah… I'm sure this is partly crack. If it is then it's my first (unless Drunk!Amos from the HP fandom counts...). **

**I actually like Katniss. Gale – not so much (or at all actually).**

**On another note Peeta/Annie, even if it's just friendship, sounds pretty nice. PostMJ tho, I actually like Finnick/Annie. Probably the only legit canon couple that still holds some appeal, and makes me smile instead of gag...  
**


End file.
